New species of beaked whale found

It’s been a while since I last posted (I’ve been busy with various things over the last few months), so here’s a story that caught my interest when I read it last year: A new species of whale that has never been seen alive…

In 2013, researchers were surprised to find a group of small, black Beaked whales wash ashore in Hokkaido, the northernmost island of Japan. Now washed up whales aren’t really an uncommon occurrence, but the really unusual thing here was that the scientists couldn’t really tell what species these whales were. They looked a bit like Baird’s Beaked Whale, a widespread but rare species of the North Pacific (and the largest species of Beaked Whale), but they seemed a bit too small and dark. But for the time being, the biologists figured they were just unusual looking Baird’s Beaked Whales and moved on.

Then a year later, another strange beaked whale was found on St. George Island, in the Pribilofs of Alaska, past the Aleutians and close to Russia in the Bering Sea. Two strange whales in two completely different places was now too much of a coincidence. Researchers, led by Phil Morin of the NOAA, began testing genetic samples from purported “Baird’s Beaked Whales” from all over the Pacific, from offshore California to the Kuril Islands of the Russian Far East. What they found was fascinating–two different species within the samples that were as distinct from each other as the Baird’s Beaked Whale is from the Arnoux’s Beaked Whale, its Antarctic relative. In the end, the samples fell into two categories: conventional Baird’s Beaked Whales (Berardius bairdii), and another group of unidentified Berardius, that closely corresponded to the smaller, blackish, morphologically distinct animals–a new species. The new, unidentified beaked whales appeared to have a relatively restricted geographical range encompassing the Pribilofs of Alaska, the Kuril Islands of Russia, and the Northern coast of Japan.

Beached Karasu Beaked Whale in the Pribilofs (photograph: Karin Holser/National Geographic)

But further investigation revealed that while these whales were new to science, they were well-known to people living in its native range. For decades, whaling captains from Hokkaido spoke of two distinct beaked whales–the larger, grayish, and more common Baird’s Beaked Whales; and the small, black, and very rare “karasu,” or “raven” beaked whale, named for its dark coloration, lighter build and pointed beak. Yet another piece of evidence that native people are often critically important to the research and conservation of rare wildlife around the world.

Since then, potential sightings have slowly streamed in, most notably a possible observation from the Kuril Islands last fall. However, as genetic sampling has never been conducted on these live animals, a confirmed individual has still never been seen alive… As more researchers search for this species in its native range, who knows what they will find!

Possible Karasu Beaked Whale in the Kuril Islands (photograph: Olga Filatova)

But I think this points to a larger trend: we are only starting to uncover the richness and diversity of our marine mammal fauna, beaked whales in particular. Anyone who has spent time searching for these animals on the open ocean will know exactly what I mean. I can relate to this through an experience last November, when the captain on my whale watching trip spotted a possible beaked whale far offshore Monterey; by the time he called out the sighting, the animal disappeared, leaving everyone wondering as to its identity and questioning whether a whale even surfaced at all!

Beaked whales are fascinating–rare and elusive, still so little-known. Certainly we have a lot to learn about these incredible and tough (they can stay underwater for up to 2 hours!) animals, perhaps maybe even discovering a few more new species of them along the way. Personally, I find it amazing that such large new mammal species continue to be discovered to science in the 21st century: clearly a sign that we should strive to study and protect these species and places before it’s too late. I for one hope to continue searching for marine mammals, not just in California but in remote, deep waters around the world–maybe one day I’ll finally see my Beaked whale.


The Volcano Rabbit: Mexico’s Rarest

Volcano rabbit in habitat

While my previous two posts of Mexico’s mammal fauna largely focused on the country’s remarkable rates of endemism and biodiversity, I’ll now turn to one species that was perhaps the focus of my entire trip. If you ask any mammalogist, researcher, or wildlife enthusiast about Mexico, perhaps the mammal they’ll first point to is the Volcano Rabbit.

And they’d be right to do so: Volcano Rabbits are awesome. What’s not to like about tiny, chocolate brown bunnies that live in colonies on some of North America’s highest mountains–like Mexico’s answer to pikas. Volcano Rabbits have become a poster child for Mexico’s mammal fauna and are a perfect testament to the country’s role as a veritable factory for microendemic species.

But, like so many other amazing species, Volcano Rabbits are in trouble. The isolated slopes they call home are surrounded by one of the world’s largest cities. Added to that, one of their key habitats, the slopes of Volcan Popocatepetl, is in danger of being destroyed due to future volcanic eruptions. While adequate attention has been paid to captive breeding of this charismatic species at conservation centers around the world, protecting a rare species in its native range must always be given first priority.

So this takes me to my story. This summer, I was fortunate enough to visit one of the volcanoes that this animal calls home, and actually see multiple Volcano Rabbits in the wild. (As a shameless plug, this probably makes me the first person to see my lifer Pygmy Rabbit and Volcano Rabbit in the same year 🙂 ). I traveled to the slopes of Volcan El Pelado, just outside the southern suburbs of Mexico City, where I saw Volcano Rabbits, alongside Mexican Cottontails, Sierra Madre Sparrows, and a host of other interesting species in a morning’s hike.

Seeing the Volcano Rabbits was a great experience, even though I probably have to go back to get a proper photo. But the best surprise of the day was seeing the pride of the locals in their endemic rabbit. The site I visited, home to abundant and well-studied Volcano Rabbit populations, was not a national park–rather it was a community conservation area protected by the project “Monitoreo Milpa Alta.” So I guess another piece of evidence for the theory that community conservation is perhaps our best tool to conserve wildlife in a rapidly developing world.

Volcano Rabbits were perhaps my main motivation for going to Mexico, and the experience more than lived up to my expectations. I came looking for a charismatic and endangered species, but left with not only multiple rabbit sightings under my belt, but also a keen awareness of the people who are passionately working to ensure that these animals stick around for future generations. Thanks to Juan Cruzado for making me aware of this amazing place, Monitoreo Milpa Alta for showing me a great time in their conservation area, and the Volcano Rabbits for giving me one of my all-time favorite mammal sightings.


Exploring Mexico’s Endemic Conifers

Part 2 of my series on Mexico…

For those of you who have read my blog in the past, you’ll know that it’s primarily focused on mammals. Well, in the background, I also have an interest in conifers and try to take a look at interesting pines, firs, and more in the Western hemisphere. So, alongside observing as many endemic and endangered mammals as I could find, I also hoped to see many conifer species in Mexico a month or so ago.

Thankfully, many of the areas I traveled in–especially the Central Volcanic Arc and Sierra Madre Oriental–are also great sites to observe rare conifers. But before we go into what I saw, I figure I’ll start with a little primer on Mexico’s geography and conifers.

What many people sometimes don’t realize is that Mexico is a pretty mountainous country. Much of the place is elevated and many of its mountain ranges rise about 10,000 ft. As a result, these regions provide exactly the kind of climate and soils conifers thrive in.

The three major areas of conifer diversity in Mexico are in the West, East, and Center.

In the West, the Sierra Madre Occidental runs from Sonora in the Northwest to Jalisco in the South. Interestingly, the range maintains a remarkably similar species composition from North to South, albeit in rather diluted form at its extremes (it loses much of its diversity in the Arizona Sky Islands, for example). The lower slopes of the Eastern side of the range are dominated by high desert and Pinyon-Juniper Woodland, mostly consisting of Mexican Pinyon and various Juniper species; in the west, the range is bounded by the Sea of Cortez and Tropical thorn forest. The middle elevations of the range are dominated by a diversity of hard pine species, some of which are shared with other parts of Mexico, such as Pinus leiophylla, Pinus engelmannii, and Pinus arizonica. At the range’s crest, more mesic areas provide the right conditions for Southwest White Pine and locally, Rocky Mountain Douglas-fir, Durango Fir, and Chihuahuan Spruce.

To the East, the Sierra Madre Oriental stretches from extreme southern Texas to Southern Veracruz. The range, among Mexico’s most diverse, covers a huge array of climates and ecosystems. In the North, the range is remarkably similar to the Sierra Madre Oriental; however, the biodiversity is even higher as its highest summits occur as isolated ranges as opposed to a more consistently elevated region. The Northern Sierra Pena Nevada, Sierra de Arteaga, and Cerro del Potosi areas are home to a handful of endemics, including Potosi Pinyon, Martinez’s Spruce, Pinus nelsonii, Pinus pinceana, and Pinus johannis, alongside many species shared with the Sierra Madre Occidental and more broadly, the Rockies. In the South, higher ranges such as the Sierra Gorda in Queretaro and El Cielo in Tamaulipas hold an interesting range of species, with pine forests (dominated by Pinus pseudostrobus and Pinus patula) at high elevations and stunningly diverse cloud forests in areas blanketed by Atlantic rainfall. These areas, among the world’s most diverse, are meeting grounds for North and South–conifers here include Mexican Yew and Podocarpus matudae.

The most endemic-rich region however is Mexico’s Transvolvanic Arc. Almost all conifers of the region are only found in this mountain range, which stretches across Mexico from Colima on the Pacific to Veracruz on the Atlantic. Besides rich mid-elevation Pine forests, the region is home to unique moist Sacred Fir forests in the upper montane zone, and open Pinus hartwegii stands at the highest elevations, with an understory covered in bunchgrass. Interestingly, despite the high rates of endemism in the range, it holds comparatively few endangered conifers. Not sure why that is, but it is an interesting question to ponder.

With the primer done, I’ll just briefly go through what I saw. My exploration of conifers began on the cool plateaus of Michoacan, one of Mexico’s classic conifer landscapes. Here, I observed a variety of species and forest types characteristic of Mexico’s Transvolcanic Arc, including single-species Pinus pringlei forests on Cerro de la Cruz, pine-oak forests and volcanic slopes, and locally, pine-fir forests on Cerro Patamban and grassy, open Michoacan Pine woodlands near Lake Patzcuaro. I continued onto Mexico City, seeing the open Pinus hartwegii woodlands at the high elevations of Volcan El Pelado and onto the remote Oriental Basin, to see the world’s Southernmost Pinyon-Juniper woodlands on the slopes of Pico de Orizaba. My exploration of the Volcanic Arc ended in Veracruz, where I saw Abies hickellii and Pinus patula on the misty slopes beyond Cofre de Perote.

From there, I cut north along the Sierra Madre Oriental. After seeing diverse Pinyon-Juniper Woodlands on the lower slopes of Cerro del Potosi, I climbed up into the mountains of the Sierra de Arteaga. Here, I saw numerous species including Southwestern White Pine, Arizona Pine, Mexican Douglas-fir, and Abies vejarii. While I couldn’t reach the alpine zone, home to the rare Potosi Pinyon, I was very happy to see two very rare species–Pinus pinceana and Pinus nelsonii, both rare, primitive, and evolutionarily distinct relics of the region.

In the process, I had a bit of a pleasant surprise too. I was expecting significant deforestation and potential extirpation of populations of rare species, but I saw relatively little of this. Most forests I saw seemed to be in decent shape, at least as far as the tree size and health are concerned. While some species (notably narrow Mexican endemics) are undeniably under threat, it seems local conservation measures for various species (e.g. endangered endemics including Pinus maximartinezii and Pinus pinceana) are helping these species hold their own.

But there’s still a lot more to see. I have yet to observe Pinus chiapensis and Guatemalan Fir in Oaxaca’s Sierra Juarez, Pinus rzedowskii in Michoacan’s Sierra de Coalcoman, the high-altitude conifer forests of the Sierra Madre Occidental (Creel, Chihuahua), or the impressively weird Pinus maximartinezii of Zacateca’s Sierra de Morones. For sure, there’s a lot more places, species, and habitats to see. I’ll be back!


Mexico’s Dying Desert

I recently spent 10 days traveling across Mexico documenting the country’s spectacular biodiversity, with an emphasis on endemic mammals and conifers. This is part 1 of a 4-part series from my travels…

Mexico is one of the world’s most important, yet least recognized hotspots of mammal endemism. High habitat heterogeneity and differences in climate result in a large diversity of species within small areas. Moreover, Mexico is the only country in the world in which the transition between temperate and tropical ecosystems is completely contained, resulting in a unique meeting ground of species from both regions. One of the most important areas of Mexico for endemic mammals is the Oriental Basin, a little-visited arid land near the borders of Puebla and Veracruz. And this was exactly a place I set out to visit.

I was headed for Totalco, a small town in Veracruz a few kilometers from the Puebla border, surrounded by fields of maize and potato and close to some of the last remaining natural habitat in the basin–remnant grasslands and inhospitable lava flows known as malpais covered in nopal, agave, and yucca.

This is exactly the habitat of some of Mexico’s rarest mammals, tiny relict populations of species that once had larger distributions throughout the Mexican plateau. Out on the plains live local subspecies of White-sided Jackrabbit, Long-tailed Weasel, and the endemic perotensis subspecies of Phillips’ Kangaroo Rat, Mexico’s smallest. The centerpieces of the region are its microendemics – species that evolved into new species through millennia of separation from close cousins on the Chihuahuan Desert and Altiplano–the hyperkinetic Perote Ground Squirrel (Xerospermophilus perotensis), the close relative of the ubiquitous Spotted Ground Squirrel of Northern Mexico and the Southwest; the amazingly long-eared Perote Mouse (Peromyscus bullatus), only known from a handful of localities with the exact same habitat, sandy, sparsely vegetated flats surrounded by malpais; the Oriental Basin Pocket Gopher (Cratogeomys fulvescens); and the almost unknown Nelson’s Woodrat (Neotoma nelsoni), a rare species closely related to the White-toothed Woodrat and isolated to a small region of malpais. Confusingly however, this species has also been recorded in remote cloud forest canyons near Coatepec, Veracruz. Either it’s got some amazing evolutionary plasticity or some specimens have been misidentified… There’s still a lot to learn!

I traveled to this unique and irreplaceable habitat with Juan Cruzado, a Mexican mammal expert with family from the area. Like other sites in Mexico, it was only through his local knowledge that I had a hope of locating the region’s rare mammals. But while we saw plenty of unique fauna, we also experienced more than our fair share of surprises, foremost of which was the devastating extent of habitat loss in the basin.

Juan hadn’t visited the site in 5 years, so we figure that this tour would be the perfect opportunity to find how the habitat had changed, for better or for worse, while he was gone. It was a real shock. The once expansive plains surrounding the cemetary, once a sure site to see the abundant Perote Ground Squirrels, were covered in houses, maize fields, and fences. Only a couple of acres of grassland remained, a glorified playing field surrounded on three sides by concrete wall and ravaged by goats and sheep. Herds of cows were a common sight in the area too. There were still rodent burrows, but it all seemed bleak at best.

I, however, was desperate to see the squirrel. So we figured our best shot was to drive the rough dirt road, the embankments of which were still pockmarked with ground squirrel burrows–and after one and a half hours of trying, I managed a brief glimpse. And that was it. Even after walking the road for another 40 minutes, nothing. While local shepherds insisted the little motitos (the local name for the ground squirrels) were still around, I suspect they’re confusing them with the abundant Rock Squirrels of the nearby malpais as I can’t see X. perotensis, a grassland species, withstanding so much pressure.

One the other side of town, where we searched for Perote Mice, Nelson’s Woodrats, and Phillips’ Kangaroo Rats, the situation wasn’t much better. 80 live traps caught only 1 confirmed Perote Mouse (despite very good habitat), 1 Kangaroo Rat, and not a single Woodrat (it hasn’t been caught in something like 10 years). While the situation is better at this site, where the best habitat is protected by areas of jagged, searing, inhospitable malpais, the grassy fringes are overtaken by zealously guarded fields of maize and potato. It’s only a matter of time before goats graze the site into oblivion.

Worse yet, there are no national parks in the basin–so these species have no habitat that will be protected from such disturbance. The fates of these species seem very bleak indeed, with no conservation efforts to speak of.

So what’s the future of the endemic fauna of the Oriental Basin? I hate to say it, but it’s not a good one. Maybe as soon as the next decade, the farms and settlements will close in and destroy the last habitat left. But we have to remember that not every place is like this–there are some sites that can be saved.

Going forward, let’s focus on protecting what we have, keeping the last expanses of habitat pristine before they too disappear. And for places like Totalco, maybe we can give the endemic mammals one last chance by captive breeding. It might be too late for conservation of this site’s mammals in the wild, but we can be mindful of the impacts of uncontrolled farming and settlement to prevent another extinction catastrophe like that in the Oriental Basin elsewhere…

In praise of the Plateau Pika

The Tibetan Plateau is home to some of the world’s most charismatic wildlife. Russian explorer Nikolay Przhevalsky spoke of enormous herds of antelope and gazelles and congregations of Wild Yak so huge they turned swathes of the plateau black with their shiny ebony coats. While the great herds of times past are for the most part long gone, the plateau’s sheer remoteness and austerity ensure that it continues to remain a sanctuary.

Many of Asia’s legendary megafauna are here – the Chiru, or Tibetan Antelope, famed for its soft fur and sword-like horns. The enormous Argali, Asia’s “Bighorn Sheep on steroids,” the graceful Kiang, and the near mythical Snow Leopard, the gray ghost gracefully scaling the world’s highest summits.

The region is also home to a stunning concentration of endemic mammals and birds, from tiny mountain voles and dwarf hamsters, to square-headed Tibetan Foxes, Chinese Desert Cats, majestic Blue Sheep, and numerous species of deer, antelope, and gazelle, not to mention the myriad of rosefinches, sandgrouse, accentors, and more. But beneath this exceptional biodiversity is a humble creature many would write off as a mere “rat.”

Cute, right? The Plateau, or Black-lipped Pika in fact, is no rat, but rather a tiny, short-eared Rabbit. A species of pika, it has dozens of relatives all adapted to life in some of the Northern hemisphere’s most rugged mountains, from the familiar American Pika at home in the Western US to the rare, elusive Ili Pika of Northwest China and the Black Pika of Northeast India. Most Pikas are pretty similar, living retiring lives among boulder fields and talus slopes collected piles of vegetation for food and uttering a sharp, piercing note to warn of danger.

But the Plateau Pika is a little different from its relatives. This species lives on the desolate, windswept plains on high plateaus in huge colonies, often thousands strong. We can think of it as Tibet’s answer to the famous Prairie Dogs of the American West. And just as the Prairie Dogs, the Plateau Pika is the key fiber that holds its entire ecosystem together.

The Plateau Pika is a keystone species and ecosystem engineer. It eats huge quantities of grass and seeds, burrows through the high plains, and provides essential prey for the huge numbers of carnivores, small and large, that inhabit the plateau. Without it, the Tibetan Plateau would be completely lifeless.

However, even the humble, and seemingly innumerable Plateau Pika is in trouble. Agricultural expansion into the lower reaches of the plateau, and accompanied activities of tilling and poisoning are killing huge numbers of these pikas. Combined with the untrue belief that these animals overgraze and destroy grasslands (in fact, they only occupy areas grazed by other larger herbivores, spreading seeds to rejuvenate the grass–quite the opposite), they are going extinct across parts of their native range. It’s a sad story with eerie echoes of the decimation of the once abundant Prairie dogs of the American great plains.

Conservation organizations around the world attract funding for charismatic species–the tigers, lions, gorillas, elephants, and rhinos. But below all these majestic creatures are the smaller species that are even more indispensable to their habitats than the larger ones. The Plateau Pika isn’t just a little rabbit, it’s a keystone species holding its ecosystem together. While conserving large mammals is important, we have to try to ensure that these efforts protect the small, but equally or more essential species at the base of the food web too.


The war on elephants

I thought this was a very interesting read:

It covers aspects of elephant conservation that are often ignored in public discussion. Specifically, the article has a focus on Garamba NP in the DRC, one of the toughest places in the world for a conservationist to work right now. Elephants (rare hybrids between Forest and Savanna Elephants) here are being slaughtered by Sudanese and South Sudanese armies, the Lord’s Resistance Army, and nomadic horsemen in a bid to both harvest the valuable ivory and destabilize the park and local government. Only a small group of rangers and soldiers fight to preserve the park and its wildlife, which also includes Congo’s only Giraffes and Chimpanzees.

This article ends with a few lines worth thinking about:

“I think if you lose elephants you are saying something about the future of humanity.

If we can’t learn to live sustainably on Earth, if we can’t learn to share space with other creatures, what future is there for us in the long term?”

Kern County: California’s Biodiversity Hotspot

Let’s face it. When we think of Kern County, nature is one thing that really doesn’t come to mind. Endless rows of orchards, the strange sprawl of Bakersfield, and boring 85-mph drives along the I-5 corridor yes, but wildlife and biodiversity, not so much… Until about a month ago, I have to say that I agreed with that perception too.

Well, it turns out that Kern is one of the state’s most significant biodiversity hotspots. The county itself contains many of the diverse habitats we associate with Central and Southern California and also contains a host of unique species, with many endemics to boot. To best illustrate the biodiversity of this place, I think a bit of geography lesson is in order.

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Kern County is bounded on the west by the Temblor Range (1), which mark the Eastern edge of the Carrizo Plain National Monument. This area is geographically and biologically a part of the California Coast Range, but also displays significant influence from the desert ranges of the Mojave further South. While there is plenty of classic Chamise chaparral and oak woodland in these mountains, Ephedra is also a dominant component of the vegetation of these hills, something you may not expect. Add to that an eclectic mix of animal species such as Le Conte’s Thrashers, Canyon Mouse, Interior Sage Sparrow, Yellow-backed Spiny Lizard, Townsend’s Big-eared Bat, Cougar, and possibly even California Mountain Kingsnake and you see that this is a very unique habitat.

Just to the East lies a significant expanse of remnant Central Valley grasslands (2). Here, some of California’s most endangered mammals cling on, like Giant and Tipton Kangaroo Rats, Tulare Grasshopper Mouse, Nelson’s Antelope Squirrel, San Joaquin Kit Fox, and American Badger. Rare birds such as Mountain Plover, Ferruginous Hawk, Prairie Falcon, Mountain Bluebird, and Vesper Sparrow survive here too in some of the last pockets of their range. Further to the east is the complex of National Wildlife Refuges (Kern and Pixley) that protect  the last partially intact marshland in the Southern San Joaquin Valley. This is where Yellow-billed Cuckoo, Buena Vista Lake Shrew, and Burrowing and Short-eared Owls survive alongside some of the state’s rarest plant species.

The Southern edge of Kern is marked by the dramatic Tehachapi Mountains (3). This area holds distinct races of more common Sierra Nevada species, such as Sooty Grouse and Lodgepole Chipmunk. Mt. Pinos and Tejon Ranch in particular serve as a bridge between the montane habitats of the Sierra Nevada and the transverse ranges of Southern California. But this area also holds another extremely rare endemic – the Tehachapi White-eared Pocket Mouse. I have been lucky enough to observe this species in the wild near Cameron Canyon on Tehachapi Pass.

Further to the North lies another maze of mountain ranges that constitute the Southernmost extension of the Sierra Nevada (4). North of Lake Isabella and West of the Kern River lie the Greenhorn Mountains, an area that holds the Southernmost Giant Sequoias in California and small populations of the very rare Pacific Fisher. East of the Kern River is the Kern Plateau, a remote elevated region of the Sierra Nevada that shelters California’s Southernmost White-tailed Hares, Short-tailed Weasels, and the Sierra Nevada’s Southernmost California Spotted Owls. Even Porcupines are present in this remote mountain wilderness. To the south of Lake Isabella are the Piute and Breckenridge Mountains, a remote area where the endemic Piute Cypress is found. The Kern River itself is a marvelous hotspot for birds (some of California’s rarest, such as the Least Bell’s Vireo, occur here) while the Kelso Valley to the South is an otherworldly landscape where Joshua Trees occur among winter snows. Walker Pass is truly a meeting of East and West, where Singeleaf Pinyons and Foothill Pines grow on the same soil and Large-eared Woodrats scurry alongside the extremely localized Yellow-eared race of Great Basin Pocket Mouse.

Below the Mountains and the last region of Kern County is the Mojave Desert (5). Rare Desert Kit Foxes, Pronghorn, and American Badgers cling on here, alongside Desert Kangaroo Rat, Long-tailed Pocket Mouse, and Western Mastiff and Spotted Bats. The rarest species here is the endangered Mojave Ground Squirrel, which is still losing habitat to related species due to urbanization and solar energy development. The region’s most famous species, the Desert Tortoise, still survives in healthy numbers, at least for the time being… The Mojave is one of the most irreplaceable yet fragile parts of Kern County.

As part of my travels across California, I searched for mammals in Kern County last May. On the trip, I encountered many surprises, both positive and negative. The Tehachapis were full of life. In a couple of hours around Tehachapi Pass and Cameron Canyon, I saw 2 local Agile Kangaroo Rats, a couple of Panamint Kangaroo Rats, and 2 very rare Tehachapi Pocket Mice. I was expecting them to be near-extinct in this area following extreme drought conditions 2013-15 and decent (but not substantial enough) rainfall this winter. This is one of California’s rarest mammals and I’m probably one of only a handful of non-scientists to have seen this species.

I then visited Desert Tortoise Natural Area in Fremont Valley in the Mojave Desert. Kangaroo Rats were abundant (seems like the normally arid Mojave got decent rains). Merriam’s and Panamint Kangaroo Rats were everywhere, and I even saw a couple of the normally rare Desert Kangaroo Rats and one each Desert Kit Fox and Little Pocket Mouse. The Kit Fox in particular was a great sign, as these elusive carnivores require pristine areas of desert with abundant rodents. The next morning, I had a bit of shock however as I found that the Mojave Ground Squirrel, once common in this area, was now near-extinct following catastrophic drought conditions over the last couple of years (this translated into very little breeding). It took me 2.5 hours of hiking outside the reserve to briefly see 2 animals at a distance. The population within the reserve was apparently extinct, with no sightings by the reserve’s caretakers for months. I did however see a Desert Tortoise (apparently populations of this species were also depressed) within the reserve. Hopefully the ground squirrels are still doing ok at Little Dixie Wash near Inyokern/Indian Wells.

Hope you enjoyed a close look at one of California’s most underappreciated and little-known places. There’s always more to explore in this amazing state!